


Weirwood

by QueenJonrya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenJonrya/pseuds/QueenJonrya
Summary: Jon and Arya like wolves in the Godswood.*~*~*~*This has been edited and reposted from my Tumblr.*~*~*~*





	Weirwood

“Goodnight mother. Goodnight father” a sigh of relief left Arya’s lips as she kissed the forehead of their wilful daughter. He looked at his wife with her moon kissed face, wildflowers were tangled up in the loose braids atop her head. Their wolf pup sighed and was swept away into a peaceful slumber where she ran amongst a great pack of direwolves. Reaching out he touched her face, pale and small like his own, dark hair like his wife. _How did two broken people create such a beautiful being?_ Blowing out the candles they left the room, as one of Nymeria and Ghost’s litter blindly stumbled into the room, trying to reach little Lyarra.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Arya was still dressed in a way most ladies would find abhorrent. A short woollen dress that stopped at her thighs and dark breeches that clung to her shapely legs. Her cloak was a deep blue, like the hot spring before Winterfell’s Weirwood tree. Wolf fur lined the cloak and curled up under her chin, brushing against her flushed cheeks with every step. He held her hand as they walked down the corridor, but as he moved to take them to their room she tugged his hand towards the stairs.

“I was hoping we could worship in the Godswood, before the Heart Tree” she smiled, but her eyes…her eyes were filled with both determination and sorrow, Jon would never be able to deny her something that she decided on with such conviction. They would go to the Godswood tonight.

Her footsteps landed in the snow and his fell atop her’s merging their bootprints into one. Light glittering snowflakes fell from the sky, and landed in her hair a few drops on her nose where they melted upon contact with her warm skin. The winter had been harsh, many fields of crops died before they could be farmed and wild dragons burnt wagons of grain before they fell from the sky and perished in the cold that snuffed their fire. The cimate was nowhere near as harsh now, Samwell oft said that winter would soon end and a great spring would follow.

“I was tortured in this castle” her voice was almost a whisper and it plucked him from his musings.

“I didn’t have the Stark name to protect me, and the Mountain’s men beat us, worked us like slaves, they picked us one by one then raped or tortured their victims in full view of everyone. Everyday, I feared being picked next. Everyday, I thought that they’d choose me and realise I was not a little boy, then they’d hurt me ten times worse for lying to them” her breath caught in her throat and Jon moved forward wrapping his arms around her, he brought Arya to his chest so that her head rested below his chin and her nose brushed against the hollow of his throat. 

“I came to this Weirwood and fought with the old gods, I yelled at them for failing father I begged them to help Robb, to safeguard Bran, Sansa, and Rickon…”

“I’m sorry my love did I make a mistake choosing Harrenhal as the King’s court?”

“No. I don’t mind that you choose Harrenhal, I like the symbolism of lifting the curse of this castle, rebuilding a destroyed monument as we must the nation. I like walking in corridors where I was once a small terrified mouse but this time as a fierce she-wolf, it feels like a small victory. Almost as though I am washing away the horrors that haunted me and replacing them with happy memories. You, me, our daughter, our people.”

She pulled away from him and walked towards the heart tree kneeling and stroking its long stoic face, this Weirwood was different, it did not look friendly like the one in the north, nor did it look like the face of benevolent gods. It looked horrid and traumatised, perhaps because of all the horror it had seen. The deep red sap looked more like a blackened piece of firewood.

“Once I sat before this tree and thought the Old Gods did not care for my cries” 

He stood beside his wife and gripped her hand pulling her to her feet, _The old gods love you my beloved, I know it true_. His hands gripped her face and he looked into her eyes, deep grey, light grey, different shades colliding like the cracked ice of a frozen lake. Somewhere in the grey he saw tiny glints of green, where her irises failed to conceal the remains of magic within her soul. His eyes probably look the same, shards of ice and northern stones with unnatural green  sometimes slipping through.

“Arya” her name escaped him in a hoarse whisper and he claimed her lips. _I stole you from them._ Jon poured every last drop of strength he had into that kiss and she kissed him with just as much passion. 

He was fire and ice the meeting of two destructive forces in a single man, but she…she was neither fire nor ice. She was the water that doused the dragon fire within him until all that was left were smoke tendrils, she was like the summer sea, crashing against a single chip of ice, melting it and making it apart of herself. Fire and ice brought death but water is the foundation of all things living. Kissing her was like drinking the essence of life from the hands of the old gods themselves. He would drown in Arya.

He pinned her to the tree as his lips traveled down her neck, her skin was salty from running after their daughter for the last few hours and warging her wolves across the continent to collect the whispers of unruly lords. Her heartbeat beneath his lips brought him joy, and he sucked at that spot below her ear that made her writhe and moan. She gripped his hair, nails scratching his scalp, she wanted more and there was nothing he was unwilling to give.

The second he disconnected himself from her neck she pulled him to her lips and kissed him hard, licking his lips, begging for entry, he parted his lips and battle for dominance ensued. _No my queen, tonight I will mount you, pleasure you, and fuck you halfway to delirium_. He kissed and fought for control, his hands gripped the laces of her dress under her cloak trying to undo the elaborate and tiny knots. Eventually he got annoyed and removed her dagger from her hip slicing the strings causing her bodice to immediately loosen and start to slip off her chest.

“I liked that dress, it was a gift” she moaned softly against his lips as he ungloved his hands and ran them over her back.

“I can gift you others, better ones from across the narrow sea, perhaps I’ll order the dresses you said you wore as a courtesan and watch as you waltz around our castle, a winter rose with just as many thorns as she does petals” he gripped her waist and rubbed the hardness in his breeches against her, as she moaned. He wondered how slick she was for him, if he ground against her with enough conviction, if he kissed her lips, neck and every inch of skin could he make her wet enough to dampen his hardening cock through both their breeches and small clothes.

“The dresses had very low necklines, your grace, often times the bodice would be two thick straps of silk, running from your shoulder to waist where they would be attached to a skirt of the same colour with a ribbon belt. The sides of my bosom would be seen by everyone, a lot of my torso would be exposed too, and my back. There would be very little left to the imagination, My King” the image made him buck against her and she whimpered, he could feel it now, her dampness seeping through his small clothes. _By the gods how wet is she?_

“I am in quite the conundrum my queen” he stopped his ministrations upon her collarbone and instead moved to her breasts, perky small things that fit perfectly in his curved palm. He laved her nipples with his tongue every so often taking a break to whisper to her. 

“They can look all they like, but when the sun sets each night I will be the one peeling the silk off your skin and kissing the flesh they could only dream of ever touching. Every night as they climb into their beds they will know that my heart and soul belongs to the most beautiful woman in Westeros and that her is equally mine. I will take you and they will hear your moans and mine mingling in the night. Yet if they ever stared at you with a hint of want in their eyes, I think I would gouge their eyeballs out with my bare hands and feed their hearts to Ghost, then let Nymeria’s pack to feast upon their flesh.”

“Fuck…Jon…” her eyes were lidded as she looked at him a smirk set itself into his lips. His mate loved him and his mate was worse than a she-wolf in heat when it came to his touch.

“You like that don’t you, the idea of me taking you and you taking me. You like them knowing that I am yours.” her legs which had managed to wrap themselves around his waist dropped down to the ground, crushing against the snow, her skin was clearly flushed and burning despite the cold around them.

“The handmaidens, and ladies in court always bat their eyelashes at you, if I knew my mother would not raise herself from her grave to berate me I would fuck you in the feast hall before them all to see the burning jealousy in their eyes”. He imagined it, his wife, riding him in plain sight if all to make sure the women in the castle knew he was hers, she told him once of the Braavosi courtesans often rutting with sailors by ports in full view of everyone. “I want you to fuck me now”. 

He grinned as he gripped her bringing her closer to him. Slipping a finger up her skirt then down her breeches, stroking her silken folds. _Gods_. She was wet, her clit was swollen with want and her sheath was practically sucking his finger into her. She returned the favour, slipping her hands into his breeches, wrapping her hand around him and stroking him softly. Catching the small drops of pre-cum beading at his tip she swirled it around his head and bit her lip.  Growling he slipped a finger inside her earning a soft gasp.

“Aye. You will have me but first I will feast on your elixir, I will make you cry out my name until you can’t even say it anymore. When you start mumbling an incoherent mess of words I will slip inside you, I will make you feel so good it makes you cry and then when all is said and done I will paint your insides white, spill my seed so deep into you and _still_ I will continue. By the time we are done you won’t be able to walk and I will carry you to our chambers.” His fingers stilled within her and she carried on pumping him as she rode his finger. He removed the finger from within her and pulled her hands away from his cock. falling to his knees, before her. With nimble fingers he unlaced her breeches, pulling them down and removing them along with her boots.

Jon reached up and licked her cleft, the taste of his Arya filled his senses, she was tangy and heavenly. His love quivered above him and he needed to support her with his hands as he feasted upon her like he promised. He licked her folds, probed within her with his tongue and suckled away at her small bundle of nerves like a babe at it’s mothers breast. 

He stood lifting her up above him, still suckling away at her taking two steps forwards so she was leaning against the heart tree again and was sitting on his shoulders. Her moans were breathy, loud, and wanton, her thighs squeezed his head as her fingers tangled in his curls and dragged him closer. His gods were nameless and faceless but if there was Goddess of Love and Beauty amongst them and a Goddess of Strength and Courage then Arya was handcrafted by them and sent to a world that did not deserve her.

Her hips ground against his face mercilessly, and her chest heaved with every short breath she took, the air leaving her in puffs of smoke. She tensed like a drawn bow and quivered before becoming boneless. Gripping her in his arms he let her slid down his body and set her on her feet. Her hair was disheveled, half the wildflowers that were in them had fallen to the ground while the other half had tangle themselves further into her hair, joined by new leaves and small twigs. 

Before he could get his bearings she kissed him with all the might she could muster and pulled his cock from his breeches. He swiped his tongue across her lips but she denied his entrance instead sinking to her knees and peppering his swollen member with kisses. Her tongue ran from the underside of his cock from base to tip. Upon reaching his tip she wrapped her mouth around him and made him see stars. Gripping her hair he could barely bring himself to guide her head instead he threw his head back as she set his insides alight.

_Beloved Wife, Sweet Queen, Little Sister._

“Gods Arya stop, I won’t last long, if you continue that” she pulled away from him and looked up at him with those damned eyes. 

“I want you to do something to me that I heard some of the courtesans talk of in Braavos” she had a impish glint in her eyes and he knew he would agree to anything she asked of him.

“What would you like” she got onto all fours before him and presented him her backside which confused him. He had mounted her from behind before, they had fucked like the wolves they are before.

“I want you to take me from behind. But this time you won’t be taking just my cunt, I want you to sheath yourself in my arse too, alternate between the two, spill your seed in which ever orifice you desire, you have taken my mouth, you have taken my cunt. I see the way you look at my arse when I walk around in just breeches, you always grip and kneed away at it when we kiss, you love spanking me until my cheeks are red, so sheath yourself within me” the blood rushed around his body as he sunk to his knees behind her, stroking himself with one hand as the other shifted juices from her lips to the small hole he planned to take. “Hurry Jon, we can’t stay in the cold forever”

He cracked, slipping a finger into her he lowered his head to her again lapping away at her core, dragging moisture up from her cunt to his finger and pushing it into her arsehole in hopes of making it as wet as the rest of her. She rested her head on her arms and mumbled his name repeatedly as she clenched around his finger and gushed onto his face. Jon licked away. Her bundle of nerves were no doubt somewhat overstimulated by now but his tongue still danced around her cunt while he slipped a second finger up her arse and twisted them around drawing them back and forth, moans of pleasure and pain escaped her. His other hand gripped his member, and he imagined what she would feel like. He placed light kisses on her lower lips before rising to his knees again and grabbing her hips with one hand. Pulling out the fingers from her arse he spat on the hand and rubbed his spit on his cock before lining himself up. Counting down mentally he prepared himself before beginning to push in.

He nearly shot his load the moment his tip entered her, she was warm, and tight, _so fucking tight_. He though of that day all those years ago when the war for dawn was won and he took her maidenhead, she didn’t feel as tight as she did now. Arya gasped, moaned and writhed beneath him, he gripped her waist with both hands and then pumped himself in her all the way to the hilt. His balls slapped against her cunt and he could barely think straight. In that moment he was more beast than man, more wolflike than kingly. He had a single goal and that was knotting his mate and filling her with his seed. The eyes of the old god’s stared at him and he didn’t care.

 _Do you remember when she died, when I crossed the realms of men and into the world of the undead…How I stole her spirit and returned it to her body, I made her my wife that day, I made her My Queen._ His hand slipped under her stomach and he raised her so she too was on her knees with her back pressed against his chest and he rolled her clit with his fingers. Her cheeks were stained with tears and flushed, her eyes were as bleary as his own, they grey darkened into an incline black, turning her head she captured his lips in a kiss. _I am hers and she is mine._ He felt himself lose control of his urges as his thrusts became erratic, each plunge became stronger he was spilling himself within her and refused to stop thrusting not until she came again. Keeping his thumb on her nub her slipped his index finger and middle finger in her cunt, he couldn’t help dragging his seed that seeped from her arse and fucking it into her cunt with his fingers. She was filled with him, and he was maddened by her scent. She came, and let out a hoarse cry as they both fell boneless on the floor. He persisted, his thrusts, his chest passed against her back, the soft curve of her pressed against his pelvis, the leaves and twigs on the ground dug into their skin. she pulled out of her and flipped her around, and plunged into her cunt, he wrapped her legs around his waist, and she wound her arms around his neck dragging him down to her, and forcing his entire body weight onto of her. He didn’t worry about crushing her not when she was begging for mercy in his ears, he felt raw, he was sure she felt just as overstimulated but they were both unwilling to stop basking in the other’s touch. She shook, her back arched up and her teeth dug into the soft flesh where his neck and shoulder met, drawing blood and she clamped down on the skin. They lay there, in the cold covered in sweat, and surrounded by the scent of their lust. 

Wordlessly, he helped her put on her breeches. He could not tie the bodice of her dress back together so he made a small knot at the top to keep it closed, her cloak hid the thin opening at her back. Reaching down she picked up her belt, which had slipped, and re-sheathed her dragonbone dagger and Needle. A grin set itself on her lips as she looked at him standing unsteadily, reaching forward he swept her into his arms and carried her towards he bathhouse. and into the King’s bathing room. 

The water was warm and the room was steamy, the two of them undressed and got into the hot water. She reached for two small cotton cloths to the side and dipped it in the water before swimming towards him. She passed one to him and used the other cloth to softly wash away the mud stains that had found its way onto his skin and the cold that seeped into his bone. He did the same washing her back threading his fingers through her hair and pulling out twigs and leaves that has joined the wildflowers in the tangle. He kissed her forehead softly and thought of what their future would look like, and the images that came to mind made him smile and bury his nose is his wife’s hair. 

“I love you Arya” his heart looked up at him with a look of adoration that broke his heart and pieced him back together all at once.

“I love you Jon”. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Deep in the Godswood where silence settled the Weirwoods eyes glowed a soft pale green. At base of the tree a blue winter rose grew and beside it was a small rose bud, pale yellow with red tips, the colours of  magnificent sunset. A bird chirped in the distance, and a single drop of water fell from the icicle that had formed when winter first set over Westeros. 

 


End file.
